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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076264">Chocolate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokentoasterr/pseuds/brokentoasterr'>brokentoasterr</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Crimes &amp; Criminals, Fluff, Guns, Inspired by Music, Knives, M/M, Vignette, Weapons, cause i can, hints at non-explicit smut, i am but a sucker for romanticised crime, no beta we die like men, weirdly enough</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:40:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokentoasterr/pseuds/brokentoasterr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And he never wants it to stop, never wants to quit, because why would he?</p><p>-</p><p>a song fic inspired by the 1975's chocolate</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chocolate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i wrote a fic! wow! it's kinda good!</p><p>there's no archive warning for this fic, but i think i covered most of it in the additional tags? if you need me to add anything, please leave a comment!</p><p>enjoy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They're in the backseat of the car, sprawled across all three seats. They're both too tall; Sirius' head keeps bumping against the door handle and Remus' knee is between Sirius' legs. The whole car smells of sweat, the windows fogged up by their heavy breathing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius has one hand down Remus' unbuttoned jeans, one hand in his hair, and Remus is too busy keeping himself upright, and not crushing Sirius—not that Sirius would mind—to touch him anywhere. Instead he trails kisses up Sirius' neck, biting ivory skin like the sweetest treat there is. Sirius makes breathless noises into Remus' ear, tugs at his hair and tilts head further back, despite the plastic handle digging into his skull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>electric. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It always is, with the two of them. Sirius never stops; never stops running, never stops urging Remus to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go go go</span>
  </em>
  <span> wherever they can imagine, never stops, </span>
  <em>
    <span>never stops. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And he keeps thinking that Remus will grow tired of it, that he'll start begging Sirius to slow down, ask him to stop crackling with energy all the time. But he never does. No, it's Remus drives wherever they can imagine, grins against Sirius' neck and loads his gun before they hit petrol stations and jewellery stores to grab some cash. Sometimes, it's him who tells Sirius to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go go go.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Electric two halves of one whole, Sirius thinks as he bites his lip to stifle a moan. He tugs at Remus' hair, forces him to look up, and Remus does. Pupils blown wide, grinning with kiss swollen lips, he looks at Sirius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you," Sirius murmurs. "I love you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus kisses him again; his lips, his chin, his cheek, his ear, muttering, "I love you," with each kiss. Sirius shivers and laughs at the same time, tilts his head again and moves that hand in Remus' hair down, down to scratch at his back, lift his shirt up and feel thick scars across his back and chest that Sirius still doesn't know where they're from. Remus tells him something different each time—</span>
  <em>
    <span>I was attacked by a wolf; I was in a motorcycle accident; it's a birth defect; what scars? Holy shit, I never noticed—</span>
  </em>
  <span>and Sirius doesn't care. He likes the mystery; likes not knowing and likes the way they are so close, so intertwined yet so far apart; arm's length from one another whilst they're hugged so close together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius is just grinning, marvelling in the way Remus bites him like chocolate and grins against his skin and is so close, so close, yet so far away. And he never wants it to stop, never wants to quit, because why would he?</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Sirius has a knife in his sleeve, blade pressing against the thin skin of his wrist, almost threatening to cut it open but not pressing quite hard enough. It's a switchblade, which is, honestly, not his favourite knife; the butterfly is his favourite, that he can fidget with and spin around between his fingers as if he was born to do just that, but the he has the switchblade today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus stands next to him, gun in his waistband and hidden by his hoodie, looking at his car, then at the petrol station, then at Sirius. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll wave my gun around and you'll get the money, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius snorts a laugh and grabs Remus by his hoodie, presses a sloppy kiss against his lips, electric and wet and kind of disgusting, but Sirius doesn't care. The sun is setting, the neon lights from the petrol station shining against their faces and almost blinding Sirius, but instead of backing away, he wants to move forward. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Go go go </span>
  </em>
  <span>and not stop until he and Remus are somewhere else—somewhere safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus kisses him back and cups Sirius' jaw, dragging his thumbs along his sharp jawline and the bite marks and hickeys there. Sirius breathes out a laugh and bites Remus' lip before he pulls away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look your best, babe," Sirius says as he hoists his bandana up over his nose. Remus does the same, and suddenly they look like mirroring pictures of one another; dressed in black, head to toe, with weapons hidden under their clothes. The only thing that differs between the two of them is that one inch Sirius has on Remus, and the curly, tawny hair and the slightly longer, black hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius can't see Remus' smile but he can see the way his hazel eyes thin out, and the way his skin crinkles a little with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Obviously," he replies, slightly too late, but he doesn't care. "Ready?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ready."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The station is empty, with only a tired looking teenager working by the till, Red Bull can beside him. Sirius has the decency to feel bad when he lets the knife loosen enough in his grip so it falls into his hand, but squares his shoulders still. He looks over at Remus, and sees him grab the gun from his waistband.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius isn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>nervous, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he never is, but he's energetic, </span>
  <em>
    <span>almost </span>
  </em>
  <span>feeling bad as he steps up to the teenager. His eyes are blown wide, mouth hanging slightly open, and then he utters the weakest, "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius has to laugh. If he doesn't laugh he'll feel regret, tug at Remus' shirt and nod to him to turn away, walk back to the car and drive—</span>
  <em>
    <span>go go go. </span>
  </em>
  <span>So Sirius laughs, walks up to the teenager and stands close enough to feel his breath against Sirius' bandana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a panic button below the till, Sirius knows, and he raises the knife swiftly, pressing it against the teenagers throat. "Step away from the counter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teenager raises his hands, swallows so hard that Sirius can feel the movement through the knife, and takes one quick step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good," Sirius murmurs. The knife is still pointed against the kid, though no longer in contact with his skin. "Open the register, and my pal and I will be on our way, alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that the real money is in the backroom, most of the time; hidden in safes that are hard to open and too much of a fuss for a quick hit on something so small like a petrol station. The money in the register is fine enough for him and Remus, anyway; especially since they both want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go go go, </span>
  </em>
  <span>never stop and never look back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teenager stays quiet, eyeing both Remus and Sirius silently before he opens the register. He swallows, then says, "Take it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Polite, aren't you?" Remus remarks in a low mumble. Sirius huffs a laugh as he reaches to the register with the hand not holding his knife. He grabs the largest bills; fivers and twenty pound notes, ignoring the coins. They'll scramble in his pockets and take up too much room and Sirius simply cannot have that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves one note each in the small compartments of the register, stuffs the rest in his pocket and gives the teenager a pat on his cheek with the hand holding his knife. "There," he says, "I left some change for ya." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus chuckles easily and locks his gun before he stuffs it back in his waistband. Sirius smiles behind his bandana, and turns around to walk out. As soon as he and Remus walks out the doors, they break into a run, speeding towards the car as if it were routine—which it sort of is at this point, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius is laughing and Remus' old Volkswagen smells like chocolate and sex and cigarette smoke and that old car smell that never really goes away. It sort of feels like home, in a weird way. Or maybe it's Remus' panting that ends with a laugh and the way he changes gear on the car so quickly that feels like home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go, go, go!" Sirius urges, even though Remus is already driving out onto the main road. It's next to empty; he speeds up. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>legal</span>
  </em>
  <span> speed limit is 70 miles per hour but Sirius watches as the dial goes up to 80, 85. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rips the bandana from his face and leans back in his seat, and laughs before he turns to Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where to?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus shrugs. "Wherever we can."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius grins and looks back at the road; watches how streetlights practically zoom past them. And they don't stop, never quit and are never going to quit it.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They're at a beach in Bristol, alone at three in the morning with the sun rising in the horizon. It paints Remus' skin orange, and Sirius can't look away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They've shared lazy kisses, passed bottles of fruity ciders between them and smoked a whole packet of cigarettes in only a few hours; watching the sun set and then rise, talking about nothing and then kissing and laughing and kissing some more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus rests his head against Sirius' shoulder, and Sirius watches his face; every single freckle dotted over his nose and the thin scar that slashes through the tail of his eyebrow; blond eyelashes and pouty lips. Sirius leans his head against Remus'.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're beautiful," he murmurs. He can't see Remus' grin—the one that shows crooked and nicotined stained teeth, the one where his lips go thin and light—but he can feel the slight chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shut up," Remus murmurs. He grabs Sirius' hand, braids their fingers together and holds tightly. His hand is larger than Sirius'; calloused and scarred rosy red along his knuckles. It's warm and dry and Sirius knows that his hand—thin, light, piano hands—is cold and clammy because it always is, but Remus doesn't seem to care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You are, though," Sirius insists. Remus chuckles again and shakes his head, but doesn't protest any further. "You're just… you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>ethereal, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Remus. The sun and moon at the same time, bright and dim and… </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ugh," Remus groans, buries his face in Sirius' shoulder. Sirius can feel his grin through his shirt and smiles too. "You fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>melt.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You're gross, you know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius barks a laugh. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wet, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as James says."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus makes an exaggerated gagging noise. "That is, objectively, the worst thing I have heard."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A wet boy, I am," Sirius says. Remus shoves his shoulder, and Sirius laughs again. He snakes his arm around Remus' shoulders, and when Sirius falls to the sand, Remus falls with him. His hair smells like chocolate and his back is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm </span>
  </em>
  <span>against Sirius' chest, and the breath that sticks in his throat isn't because Remus is heavy, but because he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>is.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Smelling of chocolate with golden skin and equally as golden hair, a complete mystery Sirius never wants to unravel. He just wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>Remus, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and his mysterious scars and his hazel eyes and crooked teeth and the way he doesn't know Sirius but still dares to love him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay in the sand like that for what feels like forever until Remus moves. But he doesn't move much; only shifts to grab a new packet of cigarettes. Sirius leans back and closes his eyes against the golden sun, hanging low in the sky still. He feels Remus poke him in the lips with a cigarette, and opens his mouth enough for Remus to stick it between his teeth. Twice, there's a click of a lighter, and Sirius knows that he and Remus takes a drag at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I should quit smoking," Remus murmurs. "Remember when we ran up that hill, from the cops, and I had to lay down on the grass and breathe for, like, half an hour? Definitely a case for quitting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius barks a laugh that echoes over the beach. "You're never gonna, though, are you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus hums around his cigarette before plucking it from his lips. "Maybe. Are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius scoffs. "On my fucking deathbed, I'll lay with a cigarette in hand."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course you are," Remus says with a snort. "I'll hold your hand through it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," Sirius says. He smiles so wide that it hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is all that he could ever want. James used to call him a sociopath when Sirius told him about how he wanted his life to be; fluid, never staying in one place for too long and always moving, always going somewhere. Running up hills with Remus and speeding down country roads too fast, not working a day in his life and die doing something that he loves—which is smoking, apparently. He doesn't care that he and Remus sleeps in the car most of the time, that they drink too much Red Bull and eat too much pizza because the only time they have a kitchen is when they stay in an AirBnB somewhere, some place Sirius has never seen before. And maybe he shouldn't love it, but he does.</span>
  <span>He loves the way Remus smells like chocolate and the way they </span>
  <em>
    <span>go go go</span>
  </em>
  <span> and never stop, never quit. Because why would they?</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what a ride. leave a kudos and a comment if you'd like, and you can yell at me on tumblr @confunded-gryffindor</p></blockquote></div></div>
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